


if wishes were horses

by CinderScoria



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Geralt apologizes in his own way, Geralt uses the F Word, I'm really 50/50 on the ship tbh, Jaskier... is Jaskier, mostly just trying out the voices lmao, not intended as shippy but could be read that way I suppose, short post ep5 drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria
Summary: "I'm sorry about that, by the way."Geralt grunts, tightening Roach's saddle straps. "Why?""I was going to use my last wish to get you some sleep."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 288





	if wishes were horses

Jaskier squints up at him when he approaches. "Have a nice nap?"

Geralt grunts, passing him to saddle Roach. It's been hours, judging by the sun hanging high directly overhead, and he's surprised to see that Jaskier waited for him outside the mayor's house, especially since Chireadan obviously hadn't stayed to say goodbye. The bard's shirt is still stained dark red with his blood—there's some present on his chin as well—but he doesn't seem to notice, plucking at the strings on his lute as he watches Geralt from under thick eyelashes.

"What happened?" he asks finally, when the silence grows to be too much (little longer than a minute, which is surely a record). "You two must have made up, you were in there for… quite a while." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Geralt hums in response. "Can't imagine why," the bard continues, standing, "she's got evil written all over her sexy abdomen. Or was that the ritual tattoo? Couldn't get a good enough look, you know, considering how I was running for my life."

"She wouldn't have hurt you."

"She definitely did not give me that impression."

"She's just lost," Geralt tells him. "She thinks power will replace whatever it is she's searching for. She wouldn't have hurt you, Jaskier."

The younger man's face twists like he'd bitten into something sour. "Well if you're so sure, dear witcher, I suppose I'll just have to take your word for it. Never mind that she held a knife to my throat and threatened to relieve me of my manly bits should I refuse to state my deepest desires." 

He falls silent for a second. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

Geralt grunts, tightening Roach's saddle straps. "Why?"

"I was going to use my last wish to get you some sleep."

The admission makes him pause in his ministrations and turn once more to the bard, who isn't looking at him, shame tinting his cheeks as he plucks at the strings of his lute. Geralt's gaze lingers on the blood on his shirt and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, feeling a pang of remembered agony from when Jaskier first coughed up blood and stared up at him with his wide, river-clear blue eyes. They've bickered before, though Jaskier doesn't often go on the offensive—he'd only done so because Geralt had insulted his singing, and even then had wanted to bring Geralt some peace. He could've tried to wish his pain away while he still could speak but instead waited, having every faith that Geralt would save him.

Stupid, idiotic, foolish bard.

Geralt sighs, and Roach sidesteps away from him as he turns and crosses the short distance to Jaskier. The bard looks up as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder, pursing his lips in search of words to say.

"I was the one with the wishes," is what comes out.

Jaskier blinks, and his mouth pops open. "Oh," he says, before his eyes widen and he says,  _ "Oh,"  _ realizing the same thing Geralt had when discovering that he was the djinn's master.

_ I just want some damn peace! _

And then Jaskier is backing away from him, mouth moving and words spilling from his lips that don't make sense in any order. "Yes, well, that explains a lot doesn't it? Should've known, really, I did escape from that room rather easily, I certainly didn't need the help of a djinn. If that's all then, Geralt, I'll just go and be on my way, message received loud and clear—"

"Jaskier," Geralt says, exasperated.

"It seems that being around you is not only hazardous to my own health but to yours as well, so—I bid you goodbye, Geralt, till we meet again." And he turns on his heel and goes to march off.

"Stay."

Jaskier freezes in place. He turns, slowly, quiet incredulity written on his face. "I'm sorry?"

Geralt remembers how still he'd been in Yennefer's bed, how close he'd come to not breathing. It's ridiculous how much noise the bard can be even without speaking, taking up space both right next to Geralt and somewhere within his chest, right there between his lungs like he owns the place. And over the years he's learned to appreciate the noise, enough so that the absence of it had scared him, and that more than anything is indication that… well, perhaps Geralt isn't ready yet to part with the bard.

"Stay," he says again, beckoning him back. 

Jaskier scrutinizes him. "Did that witch cast a spell on you?"

"Yes. But that's not why I want you to stay."

He clutches his lute to him like that'll protect him. "Then—"

"Because you are my—" He sighs, with his shoulders and back and arms and chest. "You are my friend. And I could use some company for a while."

A slow smile spreads like a sunrise on the bard's face. "You  _ do _ like my singing."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "Let's not push it."

"You do! I knew it!"

"I said some things," Geralt says over his crowing. "I'd like to make up for them."

"My dear witcher," Jaskier says, eyes shining as he bounds over to him. "You already have." He wags a finger. "But don't even think about rescinding your offer. You're stuck with me! You said so yourself, you want me to stay."

"I regret my words already," Geralt says dryly. He swings up onto Roach. "You coming, then?"

Jaskier beams at him. "Always."

And he begins a new song—something about a djinn and an elf who fell in love with the mage he was supposed to arrest—and Geralt shakes his head, wondering how far it is to the next town so he can get some more sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* hi, don't mind me, just dipping my toe in this fandom while I fend off writer's block. if it's clunky, that's probably why, I've been blocked for months :/
> 
> might write more, I've got several ideas for this fandom that really smacked me in the face, I do love this series even though I've only seen the show (I'm trying to get my hands on the books but I'm a busy demigal, ya know). anyway, something new and short for the sake of saying hello :)


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